


I'm Here

by AeeDee



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2013-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-26 22:59:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AeeDee/pseuds/AeeDee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce has never been a good sleeper.  Dick is not the only one that has nightmares...</p><p>(And okay, he tops Bruce.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Here

**Author's Note:**

> The original title for this was "Shh," when this was initially posted online.

Bruce has nightmares in his sleep. It’s the kind of confession the man is too proud to admit. It’s a secret he feels is useless, pointless, meaningless.

So he slowly twists and turns. Mumbles to himself. Claws with tense hands into the sheets. Groans a string of broken sounds, faint and muffled into his pillow. In his sleep he tries to get comfortable, but he can’t. Because when he sleeps, the weight of the world falls on his shoulders; his mind left to its own unstable devices to plague him through the night.

Dick tends to be a light sleeper; he isn’t always, not when he’s alone. But when he sleeps beside Bruce, it’s different. He’s different. Because Dick knows Bruce can’t sleep worth a damn and it bothers him, bothers him too much to rest well and pretend the problem will magically go away. He’s sympathetic to a fault, and he hates it because every other morning after a long night spent together, they both wake up in complete disarray, eyes heavy, faces aching and bodies stiff. He’s disoriented when Bruce’s pained voice startles him awake in the middle of the night. Disoriented because he knows he can’t do a single thing to chase the monsters away.

Well, that was the past situation. Now they’re in the present.

Bruce is murmuring something, this time addressing someone Dick has never met. It might be another figment of the man’s imagination. Sometimes he makes up false identities, distorted versions of enemies or former friends he’s known, distorted memories that aren’t accurate enough to make sense in his weary, exhausted brain.

But Dick knows what to do, now. He’s found a solution. He’s found a way to get them both through the night.

Nights like these, when Bruce’s growling voice is only a faint murmur above the rumbling waves of thunder outside, the rain crashing against the windows in an erratic shiver.

Bruce speaks; more coherently this time, but the words still make no damn sense.

Dick places a hand on his shoulder, crawls over him gently, slowly. Slowly, because it’s a bad idea to surprise the man. Slowly, so that he wakes up without fear.

Bruce pauses; slowly, slowly.

Dick’s voice is just one level above a whisper, “Shh, come here.” With that hand on the man’s shoulder, he nudges him gently, gently, as his lover slowly turns, turns onto his back, resting flat against the bed and looking up into the darkness.

His voice is rough but he’s not frightened, “Dick…”

He gives a delicate smile, even if he knows it can’t be seen. It can be heard. “I’m here.”

A flicker of acknowledgment in Bruce's eyes, before he gives a slight frown. “Again,” it’s his way of giving an apology.

Dick’s pressing his hands on either side of his lover’s face, that same gentle smile at the corner of his lips as he leans over him, slowly, slowly, “It’s okay,” ending his words with a kiss.

He kisses him for two reasons. The first is that it calms him down, helps stabilize his heartbeat. The other is that it keeps him quiet, because Dick expects the very next thing the man says to be some admission of guilt, a more direct apology or statement of remorse than he’d already given.

But once the kiss fades on its own, and they’re separated and staring at each other for an extended and cautious moment in time, Bruce leans upwards to bridge the fragile space between them.

When Dick accepts that kiss, he lets his eyes close; he lets himself sink into the moment. Gently pressing himself against his lover, he can feel the man’s heavy arm winding around his waist. A hand in his hair, affectionate but clumsy, his coordination’s still off but his intentions are honest. Bruce’s hand is heavy and assertive but it’s the kind of touch Dick’s learned to appreciate. Because affection is affection, and even when Bruce is half-asleep and lacking his usual precision, if he didn’t intend it just as strongly as ever, he wouldn’t do it. He especially wouldn’t try.

He means it, when he kisses him. Especially if he knows, as he would, that he’s still trapped along the fraying edges of a fading dream. He’s not completely alive. Not yet.

So Dick kisses him again, and again, gentle and slow, his lips a gentle massage as he crawls on top of his lover’s body, bracing his legs on either side of Bruce’s hips. The arm around his waist becomes tighter, just slightly, as Dick rests his hands flat against the bed, keeping himself still as his kisses start to speed up, as Bruce is waking up, waking up enough to part his lips and indulge his boy in the affection he’s searching for. His lips applying more pressure, his tongue hesitantly darting into his mouth, just enough to tease, enough to get attention. Bruce slides his hands slowly up Dick’s back, and he feels his entire body start to relax. He’s forgetting the horrifying image he had imprinted in his mind when he opened his eyes; now all he can see is soft blue darkness and a gentle, slowly moving silhouette materializing before him, a presence that’s warm and affectionate, smooth skin catching the faint glow of moonlight, strands of black hair shimmering with fractured reflections.

His kisses, slow and soft, his tongue, warm and cautious, he feels Dick’s body settling on top of him, slow and firm, merging with his seamlessly, toes to chest. His hands tracing along his spine, scarcely able to feel the bones, the slow rise and fall of his breathing soothing him, slowing him down. He’s so warm, so warm that he almost can’t stand it, because he’s been so hot, he gets so hot tangled beneath the sheets; but the heat of Dick’s body is the only kind he can always tolerate.

When Dick speaks again, his voice is quiet and low, a hushed whisper against the side of his face, “I’ll calm you down,” as he’s moving away, he’s moving back as he leans up, “if that’s okay.”

Bruce nods just once, with a sound, a faint sound of agreement. It’s vague and undefined, but it’s close enough. His lover, he understands. He’s learned to understand.

Because Bruce is a man in need, and when he is, he’d sooner die than confess it out loud.

Dick’s sprawled sideways across Bruce’s body, crawling effortlessly like an animal, extending himself partly off the bed to fumble for something in the drawer beside it. When Bruce looks down, he resists the urge to run his hands along that elongated body, to touch the smooth skin of those legs, to trace his fingers along the contours of his ass, the way the sheets tease as they barely conceal it-

But the more he thinks, the more tired he feels. Normally he’d seize him now, grab him and hold him and roll him over, spread his legs apart and-

The more he dwells on that, the more exhausted he is. The more difficult even that begins to seem. So that’s why-

Dick says quietly, his face obscured by shadows lurking along the edge of the bed, his voice faint and quiet, “I’ll be gentle.”

He always is.

-

“Shh,” that familiar refrain again, as he lowers Bruce’s body against the bed, guiding him down slowly with a gentle nudge, Bruce's chest pressed against the bedsheets as Dick's hand is smoothing across the back of his shoulders. “Relax,” his other hand is roaming, moving slowly, slowly, slowly, because it’s no good to startle him. Down his back, around the round contour of his ass, giving one of the cheeks a gentle squeeze before he slides his fingers between them. “Shh,” a nudge against the entrance, a gentle prodding that becomes a slow and cautious push as he works the first one in, immediately chasing it with a second, his fingers curling into the man’s ass as they both seem to sigh, they exhale slowly, slowly, the heat building between their bodies. Hearts accelerating, breaths slow and heavy, as Dick steadies the man’s body, keeps him still and calm with his free hand, pressing it flat against his back and massaging it in a slow trail up, and down, up and down again.

Deeper, deeper, a little deeper; the man groans as he begins to run his fingers into small circles, he feels his body tensing around him as he echoes another, “Relax;” he was going to enter with three but he’ll leave it here, this is good enough, this will be enough. Don’t want to startle him, don’t want to make him any more tense.

Slow circles, circles, circles, the vaguely wet sound of lubricant dripping out, and he accidentally murmurs a small sigh of pleasure, because he loves that sound. Even slow like this, it’s the first of many erotic, sensual noises and inconvenient sounds that are soon to come- It’s the beginning of a pleasurable union, that’s the way he sees it. That’s the spark inside his head, and he frowns to himself as he starts to notice how intensely hot the inside of Bruce’s body is becoming around his fingers, how the man’s body is relaxing, he frowns and withholds a pained groan as he starts to feel his cock stiffening, the inevitable blood rush-

Keep it steady. Keep it slow.

He’s rocking his hips before he’s aware of it, rotating them forward and thrusting slowly into the air, in an instinctive, reactionary behavior that’s so honest he’d be ashamed if Bruce were facing him, to see it. But the man’s face is pressed against his pillow, his eyes closing, his lips pursed tight.

He needs to part them, somehow. To hear sounds spill out-

He slides his fingers out of him, and moves to cautiously position his cock into place. He presses it against Bruce’s entrance like it’s sacred, observing a moment of silence, of lust-filled, deeply breathing, coarse and disorienting silence, dwells in the sound of his coarse voice, of Bruce’s suppressed groan as he pushes against it gently, gently, not enough to enter, just to tease, a final check to make sure it’s okay; no sound of hurt, no apparent discomfort.

He closes his eyes, because it’s easier that way. Takes a deep breath, and murmurs another sigh that becomes a “Shh,” as he pushes his way inside. Past the initially tight barrier, the part that makes the man hiss from the initial ache, and Dick murmurs a hushed, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” as he moves in past it, watching his lover’s body tense and ride out the pain as he slides further and further inside.

And once he’s completely in, once he starts to thrust, he’s pressing his body down, leaning against his lover as he slides his hands around his body, still so tense but slowly, slowly unwinding, slowly relaxing. His hands coming to rest against his lover’s chest, sliding between the man’s heavy body and the sheets, faintly damp with sweat. The man sighs quietly, parting his legs a bit, arching back against him—Dick doesn’t know if it’s intentional or reactive, he can’t tell but either way—and Dick is pressing kisses along his upper back as he embraces him, kissing and thrusting, kissing and thrusting, his skin is hot against his lips and his body is grasping, clenching tight around him, so tight, so tight, almost too tight-

His voice a tiny whisper, he speaks just inches away from the man’s ear, “ _Baby,_ ” he’s holding him just a bit tighter, and even if he’s startled when Bruce reaches a hand down to grasp onto of those hands, forcibly entwining their fingers together; even as Dick fights the sudden rush of his heart rate, he keeps his voice steady, “relax for me.”

But he wants to cry, he wants to cry so suddenly because Bruce is holding his hand, he’s holding his hand-

It’s something so small, so stupidly simple and basic but it’s a gesture that means the world. It means the entire world to him, because Bruce is a man that says so little, does so little; says and does so little that every contact is intentional, every movement is necessary, every spare comment, every spare sound-

He’s moaning, when Dick thrusts into him again.

Yes. Yes, just like that.

Dick closes his eyes, pressing his face against his lover’s back as he kisses clumsily, messily because he’s diverting so much effort into thrusting, so much effort now into touching, running his hands along his lover’s chest, eliciting more small restrained sighs and groans as they move together, rock together, up and down, up and down against the sheets.

Moments like this, they feel eternal. The harsh rhythm of the rain outside is slowing down, quieting itself to sleep for a while and in its absence is their hurried breathing, voices hoarse and exhausted, bodies weak but strong enough to endure, another restless night, another restless night in their wake so far.

Dick places a firm hand against his lover’s back, just one more as he leans up slightly, just enough to gain more stability, to shift some weight away from his legs. Because he needs to move now, needs to move now before they get too comfortable, before it slows down too far-

And when he thrusts now he _thrusts_ , moves the body beneath him with force enough to make him rattle and shake, to make Bruce's lips part, his jaw fall slack as he starts to pant, hoarse and low, to pant and groan with each push forward. He’s pushing in as far as he can, freeing his hands and settling them firm into the bed to keep himself steady, steady as he thrusts and thrusts, thrusts and thrusts and thrusts in and back and in and back and in and back and in-

Bruce is growling, an outright growl as he reaches a tired hand around to his cock, fumbling at first and then grasping more firmly, his coordination’s all gone, all gone as he’s being shaken back and forth, and he matches the furious rate of his lover pounding into him, jacking himself raw and suddenly, powerfully and quickly, like he’s desperate he’ll miss his chance if he can’t get off soon enough-

And when he comes he does so with a broken moan, a moan he stifles against the pillowcase, chewing against it as he moans Dick’s name, his body shaking through the orgasm, as Dick keeps thrusting, thrusting, thrusting, thrusting-

He thrusts until he comes, with a faint and delicate sigh, a sigh that starts as a faint gasp and becomes a whine, a whine that becomes a moan before it’s gone, as he’s emptying himself. And as he comes down he’s shaking, a tremble through his shoulders, his hands unsteady all of a sudden, his body flush with heat, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest.

He channels the energy the only way he knows how; he pulls out gently and sinks down, sliding his hands around his lover’s chest, holding him still. Kissing the back of his neck, kissing his shoulders, kissing between the blades as he feels the rapid pulse of the man’s blood, hears his hurried breathing, vowing silently to kiss him until it calms down back to normal.

Soft kisses, gentle kisses across his skin, humid and warm with the scent of sweat. And they remain still, warm bodies pressed close together in the silent room, with only the sound of those kisses, and the only sigh that escapes from Bruce as he settles in, body heavy all of a sudden, he’s so warm, so warm but he doesn’t mind, not when that warmth belongs to his partner.

Bruce is slowly moving, turning onto his back as he nudges Dick along beside him. They both roll back, collapsing onto the bed, chests rising and falling deeply as they lay beside each other.

Bruce turns to look at him, his face relaxed as he reaches a hand up to trace along the edge of Dick’s jaw line. When those brilliant blue eyes shift to look at him, he’s overwhelmed by something, something he has difficulty defining exactly, a sudden urge-

It’s not love—he knows he loves him already, no, it’s—it’s something different, something more urgent.

Tracing his fingers along the edge of Dick’s lips, the soft edges of his mouth, as his lover gives him a calm smile. And when Dick crawls closer to him, closing that space, the gentle feel of his kiss brings Bruce an indescribable joy. His heart does a flip, it’s turning over, he runs a hand along that beautiful face, tracing the contours, the sharp features, brushing past the soft eyelashes as his eyes close.

And when they part, when Dick murmurs an exhausted, “I love you,” it takes Bruce all the restraint in the world to not ruin the moment; because he’s a terrible man at expressing affection, and his first instinct is to run from a statement like that. He wants to run, nod somberly, acknowledge it with a small sound and turn over and go to sleep.

But he feels too much, wants too much, needs too much to let that happen.

So he manages the best he can as he returns a hand to that face, and nudges him forward into another kiss, “You too.”

He can feel his lover smiling against his lips and he hears the faint laughter in his voice, “Goodnight.”

Bruce gives a small kiss to the side of his face, “Goodnight.”

_Goodnight, I love you._


End file.
